


120 Years Later

by addicted_2_fandoms



Series: Who Are We Beyond That? A Very Mystrade Christmas [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: (Kinda, 2 Mycrofts, Christmas, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, It's Not Weird, Letters, Lonely Mycroft Holmes, M/M, POV Mycroft Holmes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Time Travel, Truth, it's not that confusing, its still 3rd person, please read the whole thing, this fic kind flopped ngl, we just see mycroft's side more, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27935321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addicted_2_fandoms/pseuds/addicted_2_fandoms
Summary: It's been 2 years since the letter arrival and Mycroft still doesn't know what transpired that night. Until he's sucked into the life of Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade 1800s style.Based on the prompt - Someone is transported to a Christmas in a past century.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Who Are We Beyond That? A Very Mystrade Christmas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045605
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Myc and Greg

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to 118 Years Later, taking place exactly 2 years later. You should 118 Years Later first, it'll make more sense.
> 
> I've done it guys, 2 fics in 2 days???? i'm killing it!!! remember to leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed!

Exactly 2 years later…

Mycroft was sitting on his couch, ready for a lonely Christmas. This year the house was too cold, Lestrade was gone and Sherlock and John were spending their first Christmas with baby Ollie and he didn’t want to intrude, nor spend time with his nephew, it made him miss Gregory more. It was 2 days until Christmas and he smiled fondly remembering two years ago when he’d met Gregory and the best Christmas of his life, although he never did find out what happened to Mycroft and Greg. That was his only regret. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Mycroft figured that if he was to spend Christmas alone, he might as well use his resources to find out who they were. Why it hadn’t occurred to him before, perplexed him, but he figured late was better than never. 

Mycroft pulled out his work laptop, trying to find anything on there mysterious figures. Just as he was getting to their lives outside of work, the doorbell rang. That was strange, no post on Sundays. On the front of a singular letter left on his doorstep it simply read ‘To Mycroft Holmes

Nobody deserves to be alone on Christmas’, in a type of handwriting not seen outside of a calligraphy class. The envelope was similar to the past two years and he found himself giddy with joy, ready to open it. Perhaps it was Gregory announcing his early arrival home! That made butterflies rise. 

He stood out there for a moment longer, waiting for the postman to leave, listening for the motorcycle start up. Mycroft looked up confused when he heard no one stepping down the driveway, nor a vehicle starting up. There was no postman in sight, nor footprints in the snow, that was extremely strange. 

He cautiously opened the letter, cautious as to where the deliverer was and who they were for that matter. What kind of person rang a doorbell without walking up to it, or at least leaving a sign they were there? The doorbell had no fingerprints on it and the envelope held no clues. 

He opened the letter, standing in the same spot he had all those years ago. The card inside had a beautifully painted Christmas tree, signed M. Morstan in the corner, the inside of the card containing the words. 

‘Merry Christmas Mycroft. May you  _ always _ find the truth.’ 

The letter was signed with no address, nothing giving away the sender and the ink was a type not used in at least 50 years. Scanning over the card once more, he saw a tiny date in the corner. 

‘23 December, 1892’

That  _ blasted _ and  _ blessed _ date. 

Mycroft walked back inside, rattled by the whole incident, but not wanting Gregory to scold him for catching a cold. He sat back down on his couch, kicking his feet up with an unusual clumsiness, that would be indicative of carelessness, something Mycroft was steadfastly  _ not. _ However, he didn’t find himself wondering about it as he dozed off, something even more odd than the letter. 

He woke up a few hours later, as the fire died too quickly and left him with a chill in his bones. He surveyed the room he’d fallen asleep in, a white bed in a small room with wooden floors. Instead of bolting upright and giving away his state, he took down everything of note in the room. In the corner of the room sat a kerosene lamp and a plate of food. A bread roll, a hot plate of soup and a glass of water. Next to it all sat some writing equipment, a quill, an inkpot and parchment. 

The parchment however wasn’t blank, the date reading  _ 23 December, 1892  _ and a ‘My dearest,’ already written. It sat on top of an envelope reading Mycroft Holmes with the address of Mycroft’s club, not wherever he was now.

He pulled on whatever clothing was in the cupboard, grabbing the umbrella sitting by the door, and walking out, before seemingly thinking better of it and grabbing the letter and address as well.

“Mr Holmes, did you sleep well? Your cousin, Mycroft, I mean, sent this for you earlier.” A lady at the front desk spoke.

“Thank you, who was it again? Sorry, I am quite appalling with names.” He feigned ignorance, although he was not sure about who this woman was.

“Ms Morstan at your service, sir. Will you be requiring another night’s stay?”

“Yes please, darling. Are there any,” he racked his brain, trying to remember what they were called, oh yes, “cabs around?”

“Just take a turn down the road Mr Holmes and you’ll find a stop. Almost forgot,” she pulled a letter out of her apron, “your letter.”

“Thank you ma’am. Have a good day Ms Morstan.”

“You too and a very Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you.” He tipped his hat and rushed out with his umbrella, going to find a cab and glad to be rid of the woman. There was something off about her.

The letter was addressed to ‘Gregory Holmes’, he thought the universe was playing quite a cruel joke, although there were worse names to be stuck with, he supposed. He managed to hail down a cab and the driver seemed to quake at the Holmes, guess they were as famous here as they are in the 21st century. 

The address parked him right outside the place he expected it to take him, the Men’s Club he’d inherited. The rules were simple, no talking and no women. Which was fine for Mycroft, being who he was, he preferred the quiet. Once inside the building, he was greeted by a man, fluently signing to him. It was a mix of what is now known as ASL and BSL and Mycroft was able to keep up and hold his own on his end of conversation. 

It was finally agreed upon that ‘Gregory’ would be able to visit Mycroft and was informed that he was already in there with DI Lestrade, which intrigued him to no end. For the sake of simplicity, Mycroft decided to refer to 1800s Mycroft as Myc in his head and 1800s Gregory as Greg, that was how it was done? Giving people you care about nicknames.

Greg looked different from Gregory, to start he was a slight bit shorter and plumper, he also was sporting sideburns and wearing a suit Gregory wouldn’t be caught dead in. Myc on the other hand had more than a bit of sweet tooth, weighing at least 600 pounds and surrounded by an abundance of sweets. This compared to Mycroft on the other hand, who indulged in his sweet tooth but also indulged in a healthy amount of exercise. 

It had seemed Myc was everything Mycroft feared to become, trapped in his own club forevermore. As Mycroft entered the room he took note of the two men engaged in a serious staring contest. 

The letter had been written today, a fight must have occurred prior to his arrival to spark it, although he was hoping for a happy end for the two of them. 

“Hello Gregory, do come in please.” Myc smiled from where he sat as Greg shifted awkwardly in a corner, obviously not in the mood after their fight.

“Do come sit down, have some.” He motioned to cake in front of him which Mycroft couldn’t decline. 

The three sat in a circle, quietly nibbling on cake in Greg’s case and taking large bites in Myc’s. 

“I trust you find the accommodations enjoyable, dear cousin?” Mycroft didn’t like the way Myc stared at him as if he knew he didn’t belong. 

“Of course, of course. What brings you to call me out here, so close to Christmas?” Mycroft enquired, making it vague enough that it sounded like a real question.

“Ah, cousin mine, you brought yourself here.” He had a knowing twinkle in his eye and Mycroft’s heart sunk.


	2. Mycroft and Gregory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part 2 and I hope this clears it up, if not there is a summary in the end notes.
> 
> Based on the prompt - Write about someone who is determined to make amends at Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi to everyone said it was confusing I hope this clears it up, also 3 updates in 2 days??? Who even am I?????
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments and remember only *constructive* criticism please!

“I suppose you have deduced what is going on by now?” Myc asked, looking rather pleased with himself. Mycroft sat looking like an idiot, unsure as to what the appropriate response was for the question.

“I suppose you have not.” Myc sighed, raising an eyebrow and looking disappointed, before picking up another cookie from a large tray in front of him. “You have until midnight to discover who we were beyond your namesakes, after all the 23rd of December is quite important for all of us, no?”

Mycroft couldn’t deny, sputtering and failing to get out words for the first time in his life. It seems only he could shut himself up. 

“Well, I suppose that makes sense, in a roundabout way. What was your disagreement about earlier?”

“Gregory here, has decided I need a healthier diet.” He motioned to the man in the corner who had not spoken a word since introductions for the entirety of the meeting. 

“And that’s all this feud is about?” Mycroft looked dubiously between the two, surely that was not all that had caused a rift in their relationship.

“I am recently divorced and Mycroft wants me to move in.” Greg looked uncomfortable as he spoke. He was fidgety and his eyes would not meet Mycroft’s, darting around the elaborate dressing of the room.

“I see.” Mycroft nodded, “and this is an issue, why? Two bachelors moving in together?”

Greg looked surprised for a moment, before hiding his shock, after all this was Mycroft or his ‘cousin’ at least.

“You don’t understand. My wife… she found out that we are,” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud, the phrase left open ended in the air. 

“Seeing each other.” Mycroft finally finished, for lack of a better word and motioned for the DI to continue.

“Yes, that is why she left and I cannot fault her for doing so.”

Mycroft nodded, “yes, I can see how that would be a problem. Where are you currently staying?”

“At a men’s boarding house down the road.” Mycroft nodded, pondering the situation, surely if he hadn’t intervened, arriving when he had, this would have turned into a streaming match. 

“No matter what I do, this will not change, will it?”

Greg smiled sadly at him, shaking his head. “M’fraid not. Thanks anyway.”

Mycroft sat on the lounge, taking in the scene around him. Greg and Myc chatting amicably, the air a bit awkward and the conversation forced. It was like Mycroft being here was throwing off the dynamic, which he supposed made sense.

“I am going for a walk.” He announced, leaving the couple to their devices and to talk things out. 

He sorted through all the information that he knew about Myc and Greg. Myc was overweight, spent a lot of time at his club and was clearly at least friends with Greg. Greg did detective work, working with the famous detective of the time and their world seemed a lot like Mycroft’s. He guessed history did repeat itself. 

“Mr Holmes.” Mycroft looked up startled, trying to find the source of the voice. Had he really been that distracted?

“Yes ma’am?” 

“I have been asked to deliver this to you and Sir reminds me to get you home in time for dinner.”

“Yes of course, where am I to go?”

She looked shocked for a moment, before smoothing her features. “Lord Lestrade’s house, for dinner tomorrow night.”

He nodded his head, before thanking and dismissing her, content to continue on his walk. Who were they? Why did he only have 24 hours? How did he get here? The streets looked familiar in a way that reminded him of a dream and he found himself wondering what the two were doing.

“Gregory, you should just move in, it’s better than that boarding house you’re staying at.” The overweight man admonished from where he sat.

“But you’re always at your club anyway, there’s not much point.” Greg argued back.

“I’m only at the club all the time so that we can meet up without suspicion.”

“Oh so now you're ashamed.”

“Of course I’m not.”

“Is it because I’m a lowly inspector? Didn’t take the title from my family?”

“No, it’s because you’re a man and I don’t want you to lose your livelihood for me.”

The room dropped silent, no noise coming from outside the club and for once the room felt full. Full with the secrets and resentments and harbouring of feelings they’d repressed for so long. However, both failed to realise that  _ Gregory _ was at the door, hearing the whole conversation. 

He’d walked back to the club just moments before and had caught the tail end of their argument. He cautiously pushed open the door, mindful of the dread and shame hanging heavily over all of their heads.

“Ah, cousin mine, you are back. Do you feel any better?” Myc asked, trying to dispense the tension in the room.

“Yes dear cousin, it did wonders. I couldn’t help but overhear the last part of your quarrel. You are in need of accommodation Gregory?” Mycroft asked, aware he could not do anything but helplessly watch this fold out.

“I am fine, but thank you for the offer.” Greg smiled back at him, reminding Mycroft of the reason he’d fallen for  _ his _ Gregory in the first place.

Mycroft noticed the sun was setting as he bid them a good day and left the club. He sat down at the measly table in the corner of his room, writing down a letter thanking Ms Morstan, Myc and Greg with instructions to deliver them on the 23rd of December the next year.

He ate a meager dinner and lay down on his bed, more uncertain than ever about the future of the 1800s Mycroft and Gregory.

He woke with a start, the doorbell ringing once again, a singular letter dropped on his doorstep, once again leaving no footprints or signs of human life. This time he decided to take the letter inside, not wanting to stand on the doorstep too long. The letter once again was addressed to Mycroft Holmes, only this time sporting a different date. ‘23 December, 1894’, 2 years later than the last. It was still beautifully written, much better than his Gregory’s and the paper was of a high quality.

_ To my dearest, Sir _

_ These past 2 years have been nothing short of brilliant and I have very much enjoyed spending them with you. I am sending two of these letters, since you know the post in London is quite dreadful. I had to write this down otherwise I might lose the courage to say it, although I am quite sure the letter must be burned after reading. Would you Mycroft Holmes do me the honour of becoming my husband in everything but law? I thought it was only fitting to ask through post, considering our history. _

_ Forever yours, if you’ll have me _

_ Gregory Holmes-Lestrade _

  
Some might say it was a coincidence, but the universe is seldom  _ so _ lazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft has been reading about Mycroft and Gregory and who they were in the 1800s while Gregory is out. Through reading about them he makes deductions that happen to follow him into a dream about them. He basically has a dream about the past and is very accurate, at the end receiving another letter confirming his suspicions.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to name the series Who Are We Beyond That? Ideas? Good, bad? I personally like it, but opinions?? This might have mroe chapters? I'm not sure


End file.
